


the dragon queen

by SxnsaStark



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, F/F, Femslash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-03
Updated: 2017-09-03
Packaged: 2018-12-23 13:40:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11990958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SxnsaStark/pseuds/SxnsaStark
Summary: The Queen eyes her up and down thoughtfully. "Alright my Lady. I shall offer you a deal of sorts. If I can fuck you in such a way, this very evening, that will leave you screaming in such a way that no man has rendered you before, then you will at least consider my marriage proposal."





	the dragon queen

"A marriage would be apt to consolidate my alliance with the independent Kingdom of the North," the Dragon Queen says, pouring Sansa a glass of fine red wine.

Sansa ignores the offered wine and laughs sharply. "Jon has already turned down your marriage proposal thrice Your Grace. And if you mean to marry Bran - "

Daenerys cuts her off. "I do not intend to wed either of your brothers Lady Stark. I intend to wed you."

Sansa is momentarily lost for words, then forces herself to recover, because if there's one thing she has learned from the likes of Petyr Baelish and Cersei Lannister, it is that words win wars.

"Is this a joke Your Grace?" she asks cooly. "I know you have spent much of your life in foreign lands, and therefore are not familiar with the laws and traditions of the Seven Kingdoms, but two women cannot be wed to one another."

"Oh?" says the Queen with a coy smile, indulging herself in her own generously filled glass of wine. "Why not?"

Sansa splutters. For all her beauty, the Dragon Queen has the infamous Targaryen madness through and through. "Why not?" she repeats. "Because it's preposterous! Two women cannot bear children - "

"I cannot have children," the Queen interrupts, "with any man or woman."

Sansa bites back brimming questions regarding this peculiar statement and presses on. "It's immoral," she argues. "The gods would never - "

The Queen cuts her off again. "Are you not a follower of the Old Gods Lady Stark?" she inquires in such a manner that suggests she already knows the answer to her question.

"What of the Faith?" Sansa argues. "The Church would never - "

"What of it?" the Queen says scornfully. "My family has been defying the Faith and its followers for centuries."

Sansa fumbles over her words, and cannot help but blush as she presents her final argument. "Your Grace, the bedding of two women is impossible," she points out. "A man and a woman may consummate marriage in the traditional and holy way, and even two men may engage in alternative methods of such, but two women simply cannot - "

She trails off.

The Queen smiles. "Cannot what?" she says. "Fuck? Dear me, northern girls really are lacking in the ways of the world."

Sansa scowls and blushes heavier. "Your Grace, I am not ignorant, only truthful."

The Queen eyes her up and down thoughtfully. "Alright my Lady. I shall offer you a deal of sorts. If I can fuck you in such a way, this very evening, that will leave you screaming in such a way that no man has rendered you before, then you will at least consider my marriage proposal."

Sansa opens her mouth to refuse such a ludicrous suggestion, but the fire in the Dragon Queen's peculiar purple eyes and the taunting lilt of her voice make Sansa's blood boil. "And when you fail to do so?" she challenges.

The Dragon Queen shrugs. "I will not. But in the unlikely case of my failure, you may make any demand of me, my Lady. Anything your heart desires.

"Very well," Sansa says, her heart racing at the thought of such a limitless demand. She is Jon's first and most trusted advisor for good reason. She feels her cheeks tinge with redness upon her next words, but maintains the Queen's eyesight all the while. "Fuck me then, your Grace."

The Dragon Queen smiles, and like lightning has swooped across her meeting table and has pressed her mouth against Sansa's, and Sansa almost yelps in surprise. Her lips are gentle against Sansa's, soft yet tantalising, worlds apart from the almost brittleness of Joffrey's. Even her kiss is welcome, the slow movement of lips against lips, the gentle introduction of her tongue, her hands resting upon Sansa's shoulders, kneading Sansa's muscles as she works her way into her mouth.

"To my bed perhaps?" the Queen murmurs into Sansa's ear, nibbling ever so slightly upon the earlobe as she speaks, sending an unwanted shiver of pleasure through Sansa's body. She nods soundlessly and allows the Queen to escort her across her chamber, all the way to her fine silken bed, with furs so soft Sansa has half a mind to rub them against her cheek. But before she can even entertain such thoughts, as she feels the Queen, already only half clothed, pull her onto her lap, so that Sansa has to lean down to feel the Queen's lips on her own again, feel that welcome pressure that she cannot help but moan into. The Queen hums in pleasure, then pushes Sansa onto off her lap with a devilish smirk.

"Thank goodness I made you change into capital clothes," she says. "I do fear unbuttoning all those wretched Northern garments would have cost me half my night." As she speaks she effortlessly tugs at strings and opens buttons until Sansa's borrowed capital dress is haphazardly discarded onto the floor of her chambers and Sansa is clad in nothing but fine undergarments. The Queen almost growls in presumed content at this sight and begins to kiss Sansa again, this time down the neck, sucking for several seconds on random pieces of porcelain skin, colouring them an array of blues and purples, emitting obscene sounds as she works which make Sansa moan as the Queen makes her mark, shuffling off the remnants of her own garments as she does so. She makes haste at dealing with Sansa's garments until Sansa is bare breasted, shivering at the cool air upon her breasts for but a second, only to cry in surprise when the Queen takes her left breast into her mouth. Her tongue circles Sansa's semi hard nipple, swirling around with deliberate slowness while she thumbs at the other nipple with equal tenderness, the sensation entirely new but a far cry from unwelcome to Sansa. She shudders in pleasure, as the Queen focuses her mouth on Sansa's other breast, her wet tongue lapping at Sansa's breast hungrily, sending waves of pleasure through Sansa, and drawing her attention to a gathering pool of wetness between her legs.

The Queen wastes no time in tending to such. With an obscene pop, she releases Sansa's breast from her wet tongue and with infuriating slowness trails a finger down Sansa's stomach, all the way to her undergarments, the only thing separating her soaking cunt from the cool air.

The Queen draws lazy circles on Sansa's cunt through her undergarments with a smirk. "My my," she says. "You are dripping Lady Stark."

Sansa groans at the lack of pressure she sorely needs upon her cunt, almost whining as the Queen continues to circle it. "Please Your Grace," she chokes, "please, I need - "

"What do you need?" the Queen asks. "Tell me exactly what you need Lady Stark."

"You," Sansa says fervently, although it's a wonder she manages to get the words out. "I need you."

"What about me?" the Queen presses. "My fingers? My mouth?"

"Yes," Sansa breathes, feeling the wetness grow even more and more unbearable. "I need both."

The Queen laughs. "And where do you need my fingers and tongue Lady Stark?"

At this Sansa has no energy to blush, no room for hesitation, only the burning need to sate the throb between her legs. "My cunt," she answers breathlessly. "I need your fingers and tongue on my cunt, Your Grace."

"Very well," says the Queen, and at long last she makes to pull away Sansa's undergarments, almost licking her lips at the soaking sight that beholds her. "So I suppose," she says, almost teasingly, "this means you wish for me to fuck you Lady Stark?"

"Yes," Sansa agrees, moaning as the cool air greets her cunt.

"Say it," the Queen orders. "I want to hear you say it, Lady Stark."

"I want - no, I need you to fuck me," Sansa says at once, her dignity long forgotten as she hungrily yearns for the pleasure she knows the Queen will bring her way.

The Queen laughs. "Very well Lady Stark," she says, and seating herself between Sansa's legs, she immediately crouches down, so that her face is buried between Sansa's thighs.

The first stroke of her tongue against Sansa makes Sansa yell. The Queen's touch is as fiery as the dragons she loves so dear, and Sansa can do naught but clutch helplessly at the Queen's silvery hair as she continues to tongue Sansa's cunt with such ferocity that Sansa has to screw her eyes closed in pleasure. The Queen finds Sansa's pleasure with ease, taking it wholly in her mouth drawing a further moan out of Sansa as her skilled tongue elicits nothing but pleasure from Sansa's most sensitive area of her sex. As she fucks Sansa with her tongue, her fingers find their way into Sansa, first the one, then two, then maybe three, Sansa can barley keep track, pumping into her wetness while her tongue continues to work its way all over Sansa's cunt.

Sansa loses track of time, and her entire world becomes awash with the sheer pleasure of the Queen's tongue and fingers, until such a time when she feels the pleasure seizing up within and she barely has time to shout a warning before her final pleasure is upon her, and she is shouting and almost screaming with pleasure as she comes undone at the mouth and fingers of the Dragon Queen.

Sansa collapses back onto the softness of the bed, her breath ragged as she tries to make sense of what has just happened. At the foot of the bed the Queen laughs and raises her hand, soaking with Sansa's pleasure to her mouth. Never breaking eye contact with Sansa, she takes each finger into her mouth, licking them clean moaning as she does so. Oddly Sansa feels pleasure stir within at such a filthy sight.

The Queen smirks almost knowingly, and crawls up across the bed to Sansa. She kisses Sansa again, and now Sansa can taste herself on the Queen's lips, and strangely finds such a thing oh so dirty, but oh so delicious.

The Queen smirks into the kiss. "So what of our deal, Lady Stark? Will you consider my proposal?"

Sansa hums contentedly into the kiss. "I will of course be carrying out duties as seen fit by my brother, the King in the North," she says breathlessly, breaking off the kiss momentarily so as to look the Queen in the eyes.

"And should your brother seem such a marriage fit?" the Queen asks.

"Then I am yours, my Queen," Sansa replies without any hesitation that she may have expressed at an earlier point in the evening."

The Queen laughs. "Daenerys, if you please. I trust I may call you Sansa?"

Sansa nods with a smile. "Of course, Daenerys," she says, and leans towards her yet again, kissing her, until such a time that the dawn creeps upon King's Landing, stealing the blanket of the night, and sleep claims the pair.

**Author's Note:**

> hahaha wtf it's midnight and I have a lecture tomorrow at nine o clock but I decided fuck it let's write some unbeta'd asoiaf femslash porn


End file.
